White Rose
by Molly4
Summary: Whitney POV post-"Crush" He makes a huge choice following his father's funeral. R&R!


A fic from Whitney's POV, as he makes an important choice shortly after his father died. I was crying last night during the funeral scene, and it wasn't a big help that "Time After Time" was playing which is a wonderful song but so incredibly sad. This fic was a result of that scene. And before I begin, I must state that Eric Johnson is an extremely talented actor, and yeah, a real gorgeous guy.  
  
Disclaimers: Don't own any of them. They belong to their creators.  
  
Couple: ?????  
  
  
White Rose  
By: Molly  
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I trace my fingers over his grave again, not willing myself to believe it. My father. Dead. I can't believe it. I refuse to believe it. Not my father, the man who held me when I was young and frightened, the man who taught me to be a man. My father, the strongest guy I ever knew. Dead.   
  
It's been two days since his funeral and it's still raining. Pouring. The rain beats down on my head, a constant reminder that a piece of my heart is missing. I let it hit me, not bothering to go home for an umbrella. I just need to sit here and look at his gravestone and finally come to grips with what happened. Otherwise, I'll never believe he's gone.  
  
My dad and I were never really close. I used to envy Kent, watching him and his old man at the Farmer's Market, talking, laughing, his dad's arm around him. I wanted that with my own dad. But Dad was always working. It wasn't until just recently that I realized that working was his way of holding me, of putting his arm around me. He had to work every single day, striving to give me a better life, even if it meant working at a job he hated. I wish I'd thanked him for it. Funny, I thought I'd have more time than this. I thought he'd live forever.  
  
One thing Dad and I did always share was football. He always made sure to catch all my games. There he'd be, front row center, cheering like a maniac. And afterwards we'd discuss the game over a hot fudge sundae at Dairy Queen. This routine lasted all through high school. It was my way of connecting with him. Sometimes I wished I could talk with my dad about something other than sports, but sports was the comfortable topic. There was no awkward silences and nervous fidgeting that occurred during non-sport talks, like the dreaded sex talk. So I was content with football talk, going over highlights, taking his advice on how I threw the ball. Stuff like that. But I should've given up more stuff to spend time with him. It's now that I know that one real conversation a week over ice cream is practically nothing. I wish I could take it all back now. I wouldn't have been such a brat when I had to   
work long hours at the store. I would've told my dad how much I loved him before he died. God, I'm sorry for all the crap I gave him because he wasn't always around.   
  
"Whitney."  
  
Lana. I'd know that voice anywhere. God, I love her. She is what helps me wake up in the morning, what helps me go to sleep at night. It's just knowing that Lana will be there when I wake up, and she'll help me through all of this. She's been so supportive of me ever since my dad went into the hospital.  
  
I turn to her and Lana's just standing there, holding a bouquet of white roses, rain soaking her through and through, but she's still beautiful. Lana is gorgeous, inside and out. When I look into her eyes I see how much she hurts for me, and I know that she is the only girl I can ever love. I can never give her up. She is the one who's been there for me through everything, never demanding I focus more on her, or breaking up with me because we can't go out as often as we both like. I love Lana. She is my white rose.  
  
"I, um, I remembered your family always ordered white roses from the flower shop," Lana explains, shifting awkwardly.  
  
I can't help myself. I rush over and grab her in my arms, and God, the tears are starting again. I need Lana. She is my life preserver. She makes everything beautiful. Please Lana, make everything better. Smile at me, make the rain go away. Make the world shine again. I know you can because you're the only one I know who will never hurt me. I love you so much, and I know you love me. I can see it in your eyes.  
  
"Oh, Whitney," Lana whispers, returning my embrace.  
  
I pull away a little, putting a hand to her cheek. "My-My angel," I stammer, blinking back more tears, but feeling fresh new tears roll down my cheeks, blending in with the rain water.   
  
"I love you Lana," I tell her, and it's no longer something I have to struggled to say. It's natural, and I'm not embarrassed to tell her. Because I love Lana Lang. It's like when I look into her eyes, or take her hand, it's just magic.  
  
"I love you Whitney," she replies, her eyes brimming with tears. Lana hugs me tighter.  
  
Lana is the essence of beauty in my own eyes. She has the soul of an angel; just one smile from her makes me think that all is still right with the world. Sometimes I watch her. Just look at her and wonder how I got so lucky. Guys would kill to be with her and she chose me.   
  
Lana sees things in me that nobody ever saw before because nobody except Lana ever bothered to look. She doesn't think of me as a dumb jock. She didn't go out with me to be popular, or because the head cheerleader and the football captain were expected to. Lana went out with me because she knew me. Lana sees past my J. Crew haircut and my preppy boy clothes. She was the only person who that all of that was a part of me, but it wasn't who I was.  
  
I remember when I first started dating Lana. I figured we'd last a month at best. To me, Lana Lang was just another pretty face. I remember still, the moment I knew I loved her. Lana came running to me one night, crying her eyes out. I was just sitting on my front porch, sipping lemonade when she came running up my steps, practically diving in my lap. I put my arm around her, not knowing what the heck was wrong, and she just leaned her head against my stomach and didn't say a word. I still don't know why she was crying. She didn't need to tell me. She didn't need me to know. Maybe it would have just complicated things more. Lana just needed me to hold her. She didn't expect anymore or want anymore from me. She just wanted to be held.  
  
I know what I need now. I need Lana to hold me. I need to run my hands through her hair, to kiss her. I need her arms around me, catching me as a stumble. I need my angel. My white rose. I can't bear the thought of losing her like I lost Dad, and Grandpa, and my little brother Scott, who died shortly after he was born, but that didn't prevent me from loving him. I still go into the nursery that was supposed to be Scott's, sit in the rocking chair that Scott was supposed to be rocked in, and clutch the teddy bear Scott was supposed to clutch. I don't want that with Lana. I don't want to have to remember her through sentimental objects or pictures. I don't want to have to remember her at all, because I don't want her to leave me. I want Lana to always be there, holding my hand and making my world shine a little brighter than before.  
  
I need to hold her for the rest of my life and never let go. Lana makes me feel like nothing is bad. She's holding me now, not saying a word, just holding me, but I can practically hear her telling me that everything will be okay. She's the only person who could make me believe that at this point. Lana's always brought me happy endings. When I'm in trouble, she's always there supporting me, even if she doesn't agree with why I'm in trouble in the first place. So I need to stay her, my arms wrapped around my white rose and I can never leave. Never let go. Lana is my life, my guiding light. If I didn't have her I'd have killed myself by now. I need her. I can never, ever lose her. It'd be like losing my soul.  
  
I need to tell Lana what she means to me, the thousand tiny reasons why I could never love any girl but her. Those thousand tiny things all add up to why she is the perfect girl. Gentle and sweet, she always knows just what to say, just what to do for me.  
  
"I need you," I whisper into her ear and Lana kisses me gently on the cheek.  
  
"I'm so sorry Whitney," Lana replies, her voice full of compassion and that familiar warmth that I wrap myself up in, feeling like I was finally home. She makes me feel so warm on such a cold, rainy day. Only Lana can do this to me.  
  
"I love you Lana," I tell her again, my eyes examining every inch of her face, taking a mental picture of the girl I love.  
  
"I love you too, Whitney," Lana answers, the white roses falling from her grasp at the foot of my father's grave. Rain pours down on both of us and we're soaking wet and shivering. Yet I can't think of when she looked more beautiful.  
  
"I can't lose you." My voice comes out raspy and wavering, my jaw trembling. I can't fight off the onslaught of emotions. "I can't live without you."  
  
Lana looks directly into my eyes and I see all her feeling pouring out of them. Sympathy, compassion, love, hurt. God, I need her to love me, even though she could never love me as much as I love her. I have to tell her how I feel, let every emotion that I've been going through over the past to days spill out at her feet. I have to tell her why I love her. Today. Now. Before it's her they're burying. I don't want to stand over her grave and regret never telling her everything I felt. I can't stand to lose her, to watch her drift away like she's been doing lately. I need to pull her back. I need to let Lana know that I will never hurt her or any of her friends again. And God, if anybody ever hurts her, I swear I'll rip their head off. I can't bear to watch her cry. I could never bear to see her hate me. So I need to ask for her forgiveness for all the jerky things I've done, for everything I ever said that made her unhappy. Everything. Today. Now. Before it's too late.  
  
Because I can't bear to live without her.  
  
"Marry me Lana," I whisper.  
  
Please, my angel, my white rose. Marry me. Please.  
  
  
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I realize that most high school aged guys aren't this devoted to their girlfriend, but Whitney is at a vulnerable time in his life and things like this will tend to make his feelings for Lana amplified.  
  
I'm not sure if I'll continue this. If I get enough good reviews I definitely will, but I'm not sure. It depends. I suppose I could just leave it like this and let the reader come to their own conclusions on what happens next but hey, it's up to you, the dedicated reader! Tell me what you think and if you want more to be written! 


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